


i picture it soft (and i ache)

by okanus



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, actually its more like, bc these boys are Idiots, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 18:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19115074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okanus/pseuds/okanus
Summary: In the pools of sunlight that trickle through the kitchen window, Eliott’s features are painted in gold; a voice in Lucas’s head tells him this is a bad idea, to stop looking, to tear his gaze away from the smooth curve of Eliott’s jaw and the blue depths of his eyes.-(aka the one where eliott was a part of the boy squad all along)





	i picture it soft (and i ache)

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'strawberry blond' by mitski. enjoy <3

Lucas stares at the endless rows of cans, balancing his close-to-overflowing shopping basket precariously on his hip. Who knew there were entire aisles dedicated to just different flavours and brands of _soup_? Lucas didn’t think he could name one person who ate soup on a regular, or hell, even a semi-regular basis. It just seemed all too unnecessary.

 

He picks a can up at random, scans the colourful label that brags about how their tomatoes are ‘100% Organically Sourced From Spain!’ Lucas supposes that’s a good thing - organic meant it was healthy, right?

 

Lucas drops the soup into the basket, where it lands against the gallon of milk with a solid thud. Eliott liked tomatoes, he was fairly certain, but Lucas was more than ready to force-feed every ounce of soup into his friend’s mouth, so it didn’t really matter either way.

 

Lucas winces as he remembers how Eliott had been wracked with sneeze after sneeze seemingly out of nowhere when the boys had been chilling at Yann’s apartment a few nights before.

 

Arthur had quickly paused the Captain America movie they’d been watching and jumped up to grab some tissues, whilst the rest of them had sat there, unable to do anything but listen to their friend sneeze like there was something hacking up his insides.

 

Once the sneezes had finally stopped ripping themselves out of Eliott’s body, Yann had raised an eyebrow, and asked, “Eliott, you good, bro?”

 

A redundant question, sure, but Lucas would have asked it first had he not been too busy rubbing a (totally platonic) hand up and down the curve of Eliott’s back.

 

“Well...I think I might be a little sick.” Eliott had admitted, rather sheepishly.

 

“A little sick?” Basile had echoed in disbelief. “Dude, it sounded like you had the fucking plague!”

 

Eliott had shrugged weakly, and Lucas had felt something flutter helplessly in his chest at how he’d wanted so badly to wrap his arms around Eliott and keep him safe.

 

And that was why Lucas had forced Yann to come with him to the supermarket that afternoon, trying to find something they could bring to Eliott’s apartment to make him feel better. The Internet had told him the number-one remedy to sickness, aside from obviously medicine, was a piping-hot bowl of homemade soup, so that’s what Lucas wanted to get.

 

He picked the can back up, and read the ingredients, wrinkling his nose. Maybe he should try making a soup from scratch, instead? It couldn’t be that hard, surely - just toss some tomatoes in a blender with some salt and water, and what, boil it? Lucas was no chef, but there was no way that making soup could be a challenge.

 

“Yann?” He calls out, but his friend had disappeared somewhere in the chocolate aisle a while back. Lucas shakes his head, and pulls out his phone. He dials Imane’s number, tapping his foot impatiently while he waits for her to pick up.

 

After a couple of rings, there’s a fuzzy crackle of what must have been Imane moving around before Lucas hears her warm voice on the line. “What do you want?” she says in place of a greeting.

 

“Wow, not even a hello?” Lucas teases lightly. “No, ‘Hey, Lucas, how’s it been going?”

 

Imane scoffs. “So you’re not calling because you need something from me?” she asks, and Lucas can’t help but grin.

 

“Okay, you’re right, I do, but - ”

 

Imane’s cackles echoes through the speaker. “I knew it! I knew it!”

 

Lucas waits for her peals of laughter to subside. It takes at least a minute.

 

Finally, she says, “Okay, yeah, what’s up?”

 

“Well, I wanted to know, uh, if someone is sick, is it better to make them soup from scratch, or just get the canned stuff? Is there even a difference?”

 

There’s a long pause, so Lucas wanders aimlessly to the next aisle, humming a tune under his breath.

 

“Lucas, do you even know how to cook?” Imane asks, and Lucas can picture her skeptical expression with ease.

 

“Um,” he starts. “Not exactly, but I figured, how hard can it be?”

 

“I mean, sure, why not. Who are you planning on making soup for, anyways?” Imane asks curiously.

 

Lucas bites his lip, feeling weirdly nervous about telling her it’s for Eliott, but then feeling weirder about the fact that he was feeling nervous about telling her, because friends were allowed to take care of each other, and Lucas was Eliott’s friend, so there was really nothing wrong with telling Imane that the soup was for:

 

“Eliott,” he admits, and hates the way his voice catches on the last syllable.

 

Imane hums thoughtfully. “Oh no, he’s sick? I had no idea, I’ll text him later.”

 

“Yeah, uh, the other day at Yann’s place he was just sneezing over and over again. It was kinda scary, honestly.”

 

Lucas hesitates, not wanting Imane to know just how afraid he’d been. Not that he’d thought Eliott was in serious trouble, he wasn’t that dramatic, but it was definitely a little worrying watching his friend (and hopeless crush) sneezing out his lungs like that.

 

“He got some medicine from the doctor,” Lucas explains, “But he’s quarantined to his apartment. So, I don’t know, I thought soup would be something nice to bring over?”

 

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, Lucas!” Imane says warmly, and Lucas knows there’s no possible way she knows how Lucas feels about Eliott - but hears something more to her words all the same.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes off. “But Imane, what if he doesn’t like soup? Or maybe his parents already brought him some? Or what if I make it wrong and then I accidentally end up poisoning him?”

 

Imane sighs, heavily. “Lucas, I feel like you’re worrying about this a little too much. It’s just Eliott! You’ve known him for what - three years?”

 

 _Yeah, and I’ve been hopelessly in love with him for three months,_ Lucas thinks glumly to himself.

 

“Look, if this soup thing is stressing you out, why don’t you just call Eliott yourself?” Imane suggests. “Ask him how he’s feeling, and if he needs anything. He might just want some company, you know?”

 

Lucas takes this into consideration. “That’s a really good idea, Imane,” he grins. “Thank you.”

 

“What would you do without me,” Imane teases, and Lucas scoffs at her before hanging up.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Yann rifling through rows of cereal boxes, pausing once or twice to examine one more closely. Lucas waves at him, and he throws up a peace sign back.

 

Lucas types Eliott’s number into his phone, and it only rings twice before he hears a low, sleepy, “Hey.”

 

He firmly tries to ignore the way the huskiness of Eliott’s voice sends tingles down his spine.

 

“Hey, dude. Are you feeling any better?” Lucas asks softly.

 

Eliott groans. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. My nose is completely blocked, and my throat hurts like hell.”

 

Lucas hums sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

 

“S’okay,” Eliott mumbles. “Why’d you call?”

 

“Um, well...I was wondering if you wanted anything?”

 

There’s a staticky crackle as Eliott shifts position. “Hm? Wanted anything? Like what?”

 

“You know, like, um…..Soup?” Lucas offers, and fights the blush that rushes to his cheeks.

 

“God, not soup, please,” Eliott says immediately. “My parents have been bringing around whole vats of it - I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at tomatoes the same way again.”

 

Lucas’s eyes widen, and, very carefully, he removes the can of tomato soup from his shopping basket and places it far out of reach, like it’ll somehow manage to sneak its way back in.

 

“Yeah, of course not. Soup is the _worst_ ,” Lucas says emphatically. “But, hypothetically, if I was at the supermarket right now, would there be anything I could get for you?”

 

Eliott chuckles softly. “You’re the best, Lucas,” he murmurs, and Lucas hates the way his entire body lights up at the compliment.

 

“You’re at the one near my apartment?” Eliott asks.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, if it isn’t too much trouble, do you think you could get me some tea? I ran out of my favourite type last night, and since I’m not really up to eating anything solid right now, I’m kinda just living off of it.”

 

 _Nothing would be too much trouble for you,_ Lucas thinks. Instead of saying that embarrassingly desperate thought out loud, he just says, “Yeah, no problem. Send me a photo of the kind you want?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll do it now. Thanks again, Lucas,” Eliott says earnestly.

 

Lucas smiles. “Don’t thank me,” he says, and hangs up.

 

Five minutes later, he’s ringing him back. The second Eliott picks up, Lucas exclaims, “I can’t find it! There’s got to be, like, a million fucking brands of tea here, but I can’t find the one you want!”

 

“What do you mean, you can’t find it?”

 

“I’ve literally checked every single box in this aisle, and I can’t find the one you sent me.”

 

“Are you sure? Maybe it’s just on one of the higher shelves,” Eliott teases.

 

“Oh, fuck off,” Lucas shoots back petulantly, fighting the stupid smile that tugs at his mouth. “I hate you,” he adds, and he’s never meant anything less.

 

There’s a burst of hoarse giggles from Eliott. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

 

Just then, Yann strolls back over with his basket piled high with cereal and beer: the two basic needs for any human being to function, Lucas thinks proudly.

 

He opens his mouth to say something else when there’s a loud sneeze on the other end of the phone.

 

“Bless you,” Lucas says automatically.

 

“Uhfhgh,” is Eliott’s response, followed by a heavy exhale. “I hate being sick,” he mutters.

 

“Did you take your medicine? Remember how you need to take that extra pill in the morning, and the -”

 

“Yeah, Lucas, I took them.”

 

“Okay, just checking.”

 

“Aw, Lucas, you do love me,” he giggles, and heat rises furiously to Lucas’s cheeks.

 

“Well, I don’t know if I care about you enough to look through all these boxes of tea again,” he says dryly, his heart still caught on the word ‘ _love._ ’

 

Eliott tuts softly. “Hey, it’s okay, you can just get a different type if you can’t find - ”

 

“No, no,” Lucas interrupts, “I’m getting you your pretentious, fancy rosehip tea even if it kills me.”

 

And he means to say it like a joke but it doesn’t come out quite like one.

 

Eliott exhales into the phone softly, and Yann glances at him side-eyed, something hovering unsaid on his lips, and desperately, Lucas tries to smother the burning ache in his chest.

 

-

 

“Guess who managed to find it!” Lucas calls, holding the box of tea triumphantly aloft as he and Yann enter Eliott’s apartment.

 

Lucas sees Eliott pad softly out of his bedroom into the kitchen, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie. He looks cosy, and unguarded, and Lucas scrunches his nose up a little because Eliott is overwhelmingly beautiful in the dusty sunlight.

 

“Hey, guys,” he says as he comes up to them and leans his weight against the kitchen counter. Lucas’s brain stutters a little bit at the solid warmth of Eliott’s presence at his side; it’s familiar and frustrating all at once to have him so close but never close _enough._

 

“This better be the best fucking tea on the planet,” Yann comments as he pulls out three mugs from the cupboard.

 

Eliott grins, eyes sparkling. “I’m telling you, it really is,” he promises earnestly.

 

“I fucking hope so,” Lucas mutters. “It took me long enough to find it - I checked the aisle three times!”

 

“Yeah, and he begged me to give him a piggyback ride so he could see if it was hidden somewhere on the top shelf,” Yann adds, shaking his head in disbelief. “I did, obviously, but that’s not the point.”

 

Eliott bursts into laughter. “I wonder who could have given him that idea,” he says innocently, and Lucas pushes at his shoulder affectionately.

 

Whilst Yann fiddles with the kettle, Eliott turns to Lucas, eyes still crinkled from laughter.

 

“Thank you, though,” he murmurs, quiet enough that Lucas has no choice but to lean in, soaking up the smell of clean bedsheets and Eliott’s perpetual signature scent of burnt vanilla.

 

“Hey, I told you - don’t thank me,” Lucas manages around the lump in his throat. “You’re sick, remember? It’s my job to take care of you.”

 

He doesn’t know what prompts him to say that last bit; it’s just something about Eliott’s open vulnerability that makes his chest twinge.

 

Eliott raises an eyebrow curiously. “Mhm...And why’s that?”

 

Lucas flashes him a grin. “Well, because, the sooner you get better, the sooner we can go check out that museum exhibit you’ve been begging us to go to,”

 

Eliott brightens. “Really? I thought you all said it would be boring when I brought it up to you guys!”

 

Lucas rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, but I’ve changed my mind. Once, you know, you’re finally allowed to leave your sickbed, we’ll go see it.”

 

“I can’t wait. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll make it interesting for you,” Eliott winks. A small part of Lucas’s brain processes that, somehow, this plan had gone from one for their friendship group, to just a one-on-one...date, apparently.

 

 _Is this flirting?_ Lucas’s brain thinks dazedly.

 

In the pools of sunlight that trickle through the kitchen window, Eliott’s features are painted in gold; a voice in Lucas’s head tells him this is a bad idea, to stop looking, to tear his gaze away from the smooth curve of Eliott’s jaw and the blue depths of his eyes.

 

The sound of three mugs being placed on the marble counter snaps Lucas out of his reverie.

 

“Eliott, your kettle is honestly the slowest one I’ve ever used,” Yann grumbles.

 

“Yeah, I need to get a new one,” Eliott sighs, and stretches, cracking the joints in his back in a way that honestly shouldn’t be appealing but really, really is.

 

“Can you pass me a tea bag?” Eliott asks, gesturing to the box in Lucas’s hands.

 

It takes Lucas a second to regain his bearings and hand the box over. Eliott’s fingers brush his own as it passes between them, and Lucas swears he forgets how to breathe.

 

-

 

An hour later, it’s obvious that Eliott’s energy is waning.

 

“I’m fine, Lucas, I swear,” Eliott claims, but the raspiness of his voice and deep-set bags under his eyes beg to differ.

 

“Eliott, just shut up and get some rest,” Lucas tells him, making sure his tone leaves no room for any disagreement.

 

Begrudgingly, Eliott agrees, and so Yann and Lucas make their way out.

 

“Wanna come over and play some video games?” Yann asks as they walk to the bus stop.

 

Lucas could use a distraction.

 

-

 

Basile and Arthur meet them at Yann’s place, and the four of them battle it out in an ultra epic Mario Kart tournament, which involves a numerous amount of swearing, cajoling, and death threats.

 

“I swear, Yann, if you use that blue shell right now, I’ll fucking kill you!”

 

“I’m not afraid of death. Kill me, you coward.”

 

“Wait, no, no no no no no no - _NOOOO_!”

 

“.....Yann, I think you broke Basile.”

 

By the end of it, Lucas comes a whopping fourth place, to absolutely no one’s surprise. Yann takes a gleeful selfie with the TV screen, then snaps a pic of the rest of them.

 

Lucas’s phone lets him know he’s been tagged in a photo on Instagram, and when he reads the caption, he throws a pillow at Yann’s head.

 

“I’m not a sore loser, asshole!’

 

“Aw, poor Lulu,” Arthur cooes.

 

Lucas punches him lightly on the shoulder. “You came third, that’s not exactly much better.”

 

“Yeah, but I got a medal,” he preens.

 

“Oh, fuck you.”

 

Yann stands up, clearing his throat dramatically.

 

“Gentleman,” he announces. “As the winner of our tournament, I shall bestow a gesture of empathy upon your inferior selves.”

 

“Dude, speak normally,” Basile grumbles, still very clearly upset about losing out to Yann in the last race.

 

Yann rolls his eyes. “What I mean is ... let's crack open some beers!”

 

“Now you’re talking,” Basile grins, getting to his feet.

 

A couple of bottles later, the four of them are sprawled across the sofas, some musician Lucas has never heard of crooning softly in the background.

 

His phone pings, and he pulls it out of his pocket clumsily.

 

The notification is from Eliott, and reads

 

_you guys played mario kart without me :(_

 

Lucas settles himself more comfortably against the cushions, grinning.

 

 _only because we knew if you were here none of us would stand a chance_ , he replies, smiling.

 

 _looks like you didn’t stand a chance either way_ , Eliott shoots back. _pretty sure i saw that princess peach came in fourth place in yann’s pic…_

 

_go drink your fancy tea and stop bullying me_

 

_you know, i really don’t get why you keep calling it fancy_

 

_it’s got fucking ‘jasmine pearl’ and ‘moroccan rose’ in the description are u trying to tell me that isn’t fancy???_

 

_fair point_

 

“Why are you looking at your phone like such a weirdo,” Basile says loudly, and Lucas’s head snaps up.

 

“Huh?” Lucas plays innocent, widening his eyes at his staring friends.

 

“Dude, we just watched you smile at your phone like it,” Arthur gestures drunkenly, “Holds all the secrets to the universe or something.”

 

“Yeah, like that,” Basile nods heavily.

 

“It’s nothing, you guys, I swear.”

 

Yann cocks his head.

 

“Lucas,” he says. Lucas meets his questioning gaze and waits for him to say something else. He doesn’t - just keeps staring at Lucas with eyes that seem to look right into his soul.

 

“Fuck,” Lucas says out loud. He might as well tell them, if only so he doesn’t have to suffer in silence about this any longer.

 

“Okay, uh, this is gonna sound kinda weird,” he starts. “But, um, hypothetically, have any of you ever realised you had feelings for someone close to you?

 

“Like, a friend?” Arthur furrows his brow.

 

Lucas runs a hand through his hair raggedly. He was really doing this, apparently. “Um, yeah. Like a friend.”

 

The song that’s playing trails off, leaving them in a heavy silence.

 

“Um,” Yann tries. “I mean, yeah. I don’t know. Probably?

 

“Is this still hypothetical?” Arthur asks.

 

Lucas exhales heavily, and knocks his head back against the solid weight of the wall.

 

“No,” he says, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. “I guess it isn’t.”

 

“So….why don’t you just tell her?” Basile suggests, spreading his hands.

 

Something ugly twists deep inside Lucas at Basile’s use of the feminine pronoun. “I can’t,” he grits out.

 

Yann raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Why not?”

 

“You don’t understand. I just can’t.”

 

“Why? Who is it, anyway?” Arthur cocks his head.

 

“It’s...complicated.”

 

Basile’s eyes widen, and he brings a hand to his mouth. “Oh,” he says, slowly. “Oh….. _Oh_. I get it.”

 

Fear bubbles up in Lucas’s chest. “You - you do?” He says, unsteadily.

 

Basile nods, pressing his lips together solemnly. All three boys lean towards him.

 

“You have a crush…” he begins, dramatically, “...on…..Imane!”

 

“I have a  - _what_?” Lucas sputters at the same time Arthur goes “Imane? Good luck with that,” and Yann whistles lowly.

 

“It’s because she’s Muslim, and you’re not, and you think her parents will never allow it,” Basile says, with all the authority of someone who thinks they’re absolutely right.

 

Lucas’s mouth hangs open. “Basile, no. I don’t have a crush on Imane,” he says incredulously.

 

The notion of dating Imane almost makes him laugh - the girl was like a sister to him.

 

Basile frowns disbelievingly. “You said it was someone close to you though, right?”

 

“Yes, I said that.”

 

“So…” Yann says. “Who is it? It can’t be Manon or Daphné, unless you’re planning on breaking up their relationship.”

 

“Please don’t! They’re so cute together,” Arthur adds fondly.

 

“It’s not Manon, or Daphné,” Lucas says slowly.

 

“Alright, enough with the guessing games, or we’ll be here forever,” Basile declares. “Lucas, just tell us.”

 

Lucas swallows, and closes his eyes briefly.

 

He takes a deep breath, and admits,

 

“It’s...not a girl.”

 

He says it so quietly that for a second he thinks the guys haven’t heard him, because they don’t react, just look at him until,

 

“Oh,” Basile says.

 

Lucas bites his lip.

 

“Well, that makes things a lot easier,” Arthur says, clapping his hands together.

 

“Yeah, that actually narrows it down a lot more,” Yann agrees.

 

Lucas stares at them, baffled, because was that it? Was it that easy for them to accept who Lucas was and move on? Clearly, from the warm, shy smiles on each of his friend’s faces, it was.

 

“So...you’re gay, or what?” Basile asks, no malice in his voice, just curiosity.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Lucas says. “I’m gay.”

 

He exhales, not realising how both terrifying and yet freeing it was to have those words out in the open. Yann shifts closer, and knocks his knee against Lucas’s.

 

“Thanks for telling us, dude,” he says, voice steadfast. “You know we’re always here for you, right?”

 

Lucas rubs at his nose, blinking back tears. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles.

 

“You know what this calls for,” Basile grins. “Group hug pile, come on!”

 

“No, please,” Lucas protests, and then Yann, Basile and Arthur are crawling on top of him and wrapping their arms around him so tight he thinks he might pop. He lets out a stifled groan against the crook of Yann’s shoulder.

 

“We love you, Lulu,” Arthur says from somewhere near Lucas’s elbow.

 

Lucas sniffs. “Love you guys too,” he says. “Now, please get off me before I suffocate to death.”

 

Giggling, the boys detach themselves, Arthur and Basile plopping down on the sofa in front of Lucas and Yann.

 

“So, you said you were friends with this guy?” Arthur asks.

 

Lucas nods.

 

“It’s, uh, not any of us, right?” Basile asks with a hint of trepidation.

 

Yann immediately shoots him a ‘ _shut the fuck up_ ’ look, and Arthur goes a step further to whack him on the shoulder. Lucas shakes his head with a slightly exasperated laugh.

 

“No, I only get crushes on good-looking guys,” he deadpans, and his friends react appropriately with a chorus of _oOoOoohs_ and laughter.

 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Basile says, raising his hands apologetically. “So, who is it then?”

 

“Is it,” Yann begins, then pauses. Lucas fiddles with a stray thread on his sweatpants, remembering the look Yann had given him in the supermarket when he’d been on the phone with Eliott. He knows that his best friend _knows_.

 

“Well, go on,” Arthur says, tilting his head.

 

“I’m just wondering,” Yann continues, slow enough that Lucas could stop him if he wanted to. Lucas appreciates the sentiment, but he lets Yann fit the puzzle pieces together out loud.  “You know, could it possibly be a certain someone who you’ve bought tea for, Lucas?”

 

Lucas swallows.

 

“Who the hell did you buy tea for?” Arthur says, bewildered.

 

“Eliott,” Lucas confesses, and the way his voice breaks on the word tells his friends all that they need to know.

 

“Eliott - like Eliott Demaury?” Basile wonders.

 

“No, like the other Eliott in our friendship group, idiot,” Arthur says, shaking his head.

 

“It was a valid question, okay!”

 

“Yes,” Lucas cuts off the squabbling. “I have a crush on…..Eliott Demaury.” Like his coming out, the words hang heavy in the air, impossible to ignore now that Lucas has said them out loud.

 

“So... why can’t you tell him?” Arthur says.

 

“Well - let me think about it,” Lucas says, bitterly. “Maybe because he broke up with his girlfriend less than a month ago, so he’s probably not even ready for a relationship yet? Or, hmm, how about the fact that there’s literally _no way in hell_ that he likes me?”

 

Arthur winces.

 

“Of course I can’t tell him how I feel,” Lucas exhales shakily.

 

There’s a pause, and then Yann opens his mouth.

 

“Lucas, dude, I think that you should.”

 

Lucas opens his mouth to protest, but Yann keeps speaking.

 

“Listen, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Yeah, I didn’t really put two and two together until today, but honestly - _honestly_ \- I think he feels the same way about you.”

 

Lucas shakes his head emphatically. “No. There’s no way. He can’t have feelings for me.”

 

“Well, he could, actually,” Arthur insists. “Lucas, what’s the harm in telling him?”

 

“I - ”

 

“Yeah, dude,” Basile adds. “Just go for it!”

 

Lucas sighs. “Look, can we just talk about something else, please?”

 

He doesn’t want to entertain the idea. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

 

-

 

The next day, Lucas texts Eliott,

 

_hey how are u feeling_

 

It’s only a few minutes before his phone lights up with a response.

 

_actually so much better! i think the meds are finally kicking in which is great_

 

_cool :) so wanna watch a movie?_

 

_at the cinema?_

 

_no no no at your place_

 

_yeah sure_

 

_okay i’ll come over now_

 

When Lucas walks into Eliott’s apartment, he feels oddly nervous and he doesn’t quite know why.

 

“Eliott?” he calls, taking off his scarf.

 

“Hey, Lucas!” Eliott appears around the corner in sweatpants and a well-worn black t-shirt.

 

Lucas smiles. “You’re looking better,” he says.

 

 _Looking good,_ his mind supplies him with unhelpfully.

 

Eliott flashes him a grin.

 

Lucas cocks his head. “Why does it smell so good in here?”

 

“Oh, Manon came by and dropped off some homemade brownies.”

 

Lucas nods, inhaling the scent of chocolate and sugar.

 

“Maybe I should fall sick more often, if it means I get treated like this,” Eliott continues, the corner of his mouth twitching mischievously.

 

Lucas pokes him in the shoulder. “Please don’t.”

 

Eliott winks.

 

A few minutes later, they’re lying on Eliott’s bed with the plate of brownies and Eliott’s laptop settled carefully between them. Lucas takes one of the corner pieces, because he has good taste, and crams it into his mouth as so to not spill any crumbs.

 

“Attractive,” Eliott deadpans, and Lucas sputters around a mouthful of fudge. Once he’s choked it down, he mutters _fuck you_ and Eliott giggles.

 

“Okay, so what do you wanna watch?” Lucas asks, scrolling down Netflix’s homepage.

 

“Mm, it’s up to you. Pick anything.”

 

“Are you sure?” Lucas says, thinking about how picky Eliott usually was when it came to watching a movie. Eliott tilts his head in response.

 

Lucas doesn’t take long to decide on the film of his choice, and nabs another brownie as the opening credits begin to roll.

 

Eliott rolls his eyes with mock exasperation. “Really, Lucas? Ratatouille? Out of all the movies you could choose -”

 

“Hey, you said, and I quote, that I could ‘ _pick anything,_ ’” Lucas reminds him, fighting back a grin.

 

Eliott sighs, shaking his head. “I guess I did. But still...Ratatouille?”

 

“It’s a good movie!” Lucas says, defensively.

 

“Oh, for sure.”

 

They stop talking as the first scene of the movie begins to play. From there, it’s just the occasional exhale through Lucas’s nose at scenes he finds particularly funny, or a repressed chuckle from Eliott as he tries to maintain his air of movie snobbery, until there’s nothing left of the brownies but crumbs and the sun has begun to set outside.

 

Lucas hums, stretching. “You want me to put the plate away?” He offers. “You don’t have to pause the movie, don’t worry.”

 

“Thanks, Lucas.”

 

Lucas takes the plate and heads to the kitchen, where he gives it a cursory scrub and leaves it in the sink. When he goes back to Eliott’s room, Eliott’s looking at him with a funny expression on his face - one that Lucas can’t quite name.

 

“Uh, dude, you okay?”

 

Eliott doesn’t react for a second, then nods a little too enthusiastically. “Hm? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

 

“Ohh-kay,” Lucas says slowly.

 

Eliott closes his eyes briefly, and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Lucas’s heart rate starts to pick up. Something had happened while he had been in the kitchen.

 

“Eliott?” He asks, and sits on the side of the bed next to his friend’s legs.

 

Abruptly, Eliott shifts position, pushing his laptop to the side. He swings his legs around so he’s sitting next to Lucas, and looks at Lucas with those clear, beautiful eyes of his. Lucas bites his lip.

 

There’s something hanging heavy, unspoken in the air, and Lucas doesn’t dare to open his mouth in case he somehow ruins whatever the fuck was happening.

 

Finally, Eliott speaks.

 

“Lucas,” he starts, then breaks into raspy coughs.

 

Lucas reaches for the water bottle on Eliott’s desk and passes it to him, hands shaking ever so slightly. Eliott takes it gratefully, and something in the back of Lucas’s mind notes how he’d been careful to not let their fingers touch.

 

Eliott takes a long sip, then tries again. “Lucas… Have you ever, um - have you ever maybe caught feelings for someone who was…Close to you?”

 

Lucas feels his heartbeat jump into his throat, hears it hammering wildly in his ears. “Yeah,” he says after a moment, desperately willing his voice to stop trembling. “You mean like - for a friend, or something?”

 

“Yeah,” Eliott says, voice barely above a whisper. “Like for a friend.”

 

“Um...Yeah, actually,” Lucas gets out, unable to hold down a single coherent thought. “I have.”

 

Something shifts in Eliott’s expression, his eyes thoughtful and deep. “Did you - did you ever do something about it?”

 

Lucas swallows, and tries to calm himself down. “No,” he says, simply. “Not yet.”

 

Eliott raises an eyebrow. “Not...yet?” he says, and it’s an innocent enough question, sure, but Lucas has had enough of this torturous back-and-forth, has had enough of never making a move, has had enough of being a coward.

 

“Not yet,” he repeats. “Until now.”

 

He finally dares to look up and meets Eliott’s gaze properly. Eliott is looking at him through his eyelashes, expression uncertain and soft.

 

Lucas leans in, slow enough for Eliott to back away. But he doesn’t. So he leans in just a little bit further.

 

Eliott inhales sharply, and Lucas feels it against his lips more than he hears it, and then they’re kissing, holy fucking shit, they’re kissing, and Lucas thinks his brain might shut down because this couldn’t possibly be real.

 

But it is real - and it’s terrifying and perfect and everything Lucas has dreamt of and more - all at once.

 

Eliott is kissing him, threading his fingers into Lucas’s hair and pulling him closer, kissing him like he needs Lucas to breathe. The blood in Lucas’s veins thrums; it feels like every nerve ending on his body is coming alive.

 

When Eliott pulls back, Lucas chases his lips, not ready to lose the (already familiar) feeling of Eliott’s lips pressed against his own.

 

“Lucas,” Eliott mumbles into his mouth. “Wait - _wait_ ,” he says, pulling back properly.

 

Lucas doesn’t understand what could be more important right now than kissing.

 

Eliott’s expression is vulnerable, and it sends a shard of lighting through Lucas’s chest. Shit. Had Lucas somehow completely misread all the signs - had he just royally fucked up _everything_?

 

Then Eliott smiles, and it’s like the weight of the world has been lifted off Lucas’s shoulders.

 

“So…” Eliott murmurs, with a shyness Lucas has never seen before. “I’m gonna guess that it’s me?”

 

Lucas shakes his head. “It’s always been you,” he confesses.

 

Eliott’s eyes widen at that. “Always?” he whispers disbelievingly.

 

“Always,” Lucas says.

 

Eliott exhales, and draws Lucas back into a kiss, mouth hot and soft on his. Lucas feels warmth spreading through his body in waves, sticky and sweet like honey.

 

In the background, Ratatouille keeps playing, forgotten.

 

-

 

The next morning, because clearly the universe didn’t want anything in Lucas’s life to be easy, ever, Lucas wakes up with the exact same symptoms as Eliott. He groans, throat aching as he sniffs despondently to himself. Eliott can’t contain his laughter, especially not when Lucas sneezes so loudly he startles a bird off the windowsill.

 

Lucas pouts, and Eliott sweeps him up into a warm kiss as an apology. It works - Lucas melts into his arms, revelling in the feel of Eliott’s lips against his.

 

“I’ll make you some tea,” Eliott murmurs when he pulls away, breath tickling against Lucas’s forehead.

 

“Don’t want tea,” Lucas mumbles. “Just you.” He leans back in.

 

“Lucas,” Eliott says, laughing into the kiss. “Lucas, really”- he breaks off, his eyes fluttering closed, a soft sound coming from the back of his throat that makes Lucas shiver - “Really, I promise it’ll help.”

 

He breaks the kiss, hands cradling Lucas’s cheeks gently. Lucas blinks at him, a little dazedly.

 

“Fine,” he says, reluctantly. Eliott beams.

 

Later, Lucas has to admit, the stupid fancy tea actually tastes pretty good.

 

-

 

In the afternoon, Yann, Arthur and Basile drop by to play some board games. Nobody really questions why Lucas is already there; something he’s extremely thankful for.

 

Something Lucas is _not_ thankful for is the fact that he can’t stop sneezing.

 

“Dude, you feeling okay?” Yann says at some point. “You’re starting to sound like Eliott.”

 

“Yeah, did you guys make out or something?” Basile teases. Arthur pokes him in the side immediately. Basile’s eyes widen, and he mouths an apology to Lucas that literally everyone notices.

 

Eliott coughs to himself.

 

“Um…” Lucas says helplessly, spreading his hands.

 

There’s a long beat of silence.

 

“Oh my god,” Arthur says.

 

“Wait - hold on,” Yann says.

 

“I was right!” Basile says.

 

“Yes,” Eliott says helpfully. “We did. Make out. Lucas and I - ”

 

“I _think_ they get it, Eliott,” Lucas grits out.

 

“We do,” their friends say in gleeful unison.

 

“You actually did it, Lucas,” Yann says with a touch of pride. Lucas tilts his head, a self-conscious smile on his face.

 

Eliott pulls Lucas in, snaking his arm around Lucas’s waist. “So…” he starts, voice awfully innocent. “What has Lucas said about me?”

 

“Oh, you don’t wanna know the half of it,” Arthur informs him, and Lucas makes a noise of protest. Eliott throws his head back in laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes Lucas want to surge up and kiss him.

 

When the realisation hits that oh, hold on, Lucas _could_ kiss him, he doesn’t hesitate to do so, pressing his lips softly against Eliott’s own,

 

Their friends cheer and whoop excitedly, and Lucas smiles into the crook of Eliott’s neck and thinks, _I’m home._

 

**Author's Note:**

> when lucas was in the kitchen eliott saw a text on lucas's phone from yann saying 'MAKE YOUR MOVE!!!!! KISS ELIOTT!!!!! WE BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!!!!' :')
> 
> find me on tumblr [here](http://princelallemant.tumblr.com/) <3


End file.
